


Squeeze

by seekingsquake



Category: Naruto
Genre: Discord: Umino Hours, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, M/M, Umino Hours Winter Bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28101174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekingsquake/pseuds/seekingsquake
Summary: “I know you don’t feel comfortable with commitment,” Genma states, matter-of-fact, his green eyes pinning Iruka in place in the doorway. “And for years, I thought that it would be okay for us to just be friends. But I know that we love each other, and I don’t want to die out there without ever having said anything to you about it.”Iruka closes the door. He stares at his socks, counts his breaths, tries not to feel like the world is spinning out beneath his feet.It only takes one moment for Genma and Iruka's casual affair to become something else.
Relationships: Shiranui Genma/Umino Iruka
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47
Collections: The Umino Hours Winter Bingo 2020





	Squeeze

**Author's Note:**

> A huge shoutout to [jessicamiriamdrew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicamiriamdrew/pseuds/jessicamiriamdrew) for helping me finish this piece without bashing my head into my keyboard.

It’s not that Iruka isn’t a cuddler. He thrives under affectionate touches, and he’s the first to offer a hug to anyone who might need it and be receptive. At night, he swaddles himself in his comforter so tightly and pretends that he’s being held by someone else. The day Naruto grew out of letting Iruka kiss him on the head at bedtime, Iruka cried himself to sleep. The thing he misses the most about his mother, besides  _ everything,  _ is how she used to brush his hair in the morning. 

So, when he pulls away from Genma after spending a few hours getting it on in nearly every position imaginable and in every room in Genma’s apartment, it isn’t because he’s not a cuddler.

It’s because he is. 

This thing between them, whatever it is that they’re doing with each other— they’re not dating. Iruka entered this arrangement on the condition that neither of them was looking for anything serious. And even though Genma is a generous lover and sleeps better with another person in his bed, watching his back... If Iruka stays the night, he’ll catch feelings. He knows he will.

Genma watches him as he collects his belongings; his clothes and gear always end up scattered all over the place, and if he uses getting ready to leave as an opportunity to flaunt his bare ass at Genma as much as possible, there’s no one around to call him on it. “You could stay,” Genma says, looking at him, his voice rough.

Iruka knows Genma has a mission in the morning, knows that he won’t sleep very well if Iruka leaves. But Iruka has class tomorrow, and he knows that  _ he  _ won’t sleep well if he stays. He wants it too much.

“I can’t,” he says to Genma, trying to sound casual. 

Even though they’ve only been sleeping together for a few months, they’ve known each other for years. Out of all of Iruka’s friends, Genma’s pushed him the most and believed in him the most faithfully. When something goes wrong, or he has a bad day, Genma knows without being told. Ever since Iruka started working the missions desk as a teen, Genma’s read him like an open book.

It’s futile, trying to lie to him. But Genma lets him get away with it anyway.

❆❆❆

He’s not expecting anyone when he’s interrupted by a knock at the door, so Iruka’s tempted to pretend that he’s not home. But when the knock persists, he caves and answers it. “Hey,” Genma says, slumped against the doorframe. He’s muddy, damp, and visibly exhausted.

“You’re back,” Iruka says, surprised. Genma’s been gone for nearly three weeks, but the information he’s gathered from eavesdropping on Anko and Kakashi in the hallway outside of the Hokage’s office had suggested that Genma might be gone for upwards of a month. The polite thing to do would be to ask Genma to come inside. Instead, he asks, “What are you doing here?”

Genma is the type of person to just take what he wants. He doesn’t hesitate, and he doesn’t hide. He’s pretty straight-forward for a shinobi, and Iruka knows it’s because Genma is aware of impending death. He’s thirty-three and still in the field; it’s only a matter of time before something happens. So, instead of answering Iruka’s question, he just walks into the apartment.

He hangs his flak vest up by the door like he lives here, then he wanders into the living room. There’s a dusting of snow on Genma’s bandana and shirt-sleeves, melting rapidly in the warmth of Iruka’s apartment. His combat boots are wet, and tracks on the floor mark the path he took from the street, up the stairs, to the middle of Iruka’s living room. He says, “I didn’t think I was coming home this time.”

“Gen?”

“I know you don’t feel comfortable with commitment,” Genma states, matter-of-fact, his green eyes pinning Iruka in place in the doorway. “And for years, I thought that it would be okay for us to just be friends. But I know that we love each other, and I don’t want to die out there without ever having said anything to you about it.”

Iruka closes the door. He stares at his socks, counts his breaths, tries not to feel like the world is spinning out beneath his feet. Indeed, there’s always been... affection between them, but love? Iruka’s never thought about it. Never let himself think about it. What good could come from it? But Iruka’s been fostering an ache in his chest for quite some time now, and there’s a reason he won’t look Genma in the eye for more than a moment at a time. 

“There’s nothing I can give you,” Iruka says quietly.

“I don’t want anything from you,” Genma responds. The blue of his shinobi-issued turtleneck is vivid against his skin, and matches the colour of a bruise on his cheek. There’s a smear of dirt above his brow, and a tear in the left thigh of his pants. Muddy water is dripping off him in staccato beats and pooling around his boots. “I just wanted to tell you that you could have more of me, if you wanted. And if you don’t, then that’s okay.”

More. Iruka’s always been insatiable, always wanted more than he could ever dare to dream of. More friends, more attention, more respect. He’s had to learn how to curb his greed, because he’s seen greed consume and destroy. He’s been accused, in the past, of being too much, of wanting too much. “Genma. I’ll smother you,” Iruka chokes out, desperate and afraid and  _ greedy.  _

There’s something dark in Genma’s eyes when he says, simply, “And if I want to be smothered?”

Iruka doesn’t know who moves first, who reaches for who, but between one breath and the next their mouths are crashing together. One of Genma’s hands is holding Iruka’s jaw firmly, while the other grabs him by the hip and pulls him close. Both of Iruka’s hands have found their way into Genma’s hair, and he’s devouring Genma’s mouth with a ferociousness that he doesn’t recognize. 

❆❆❆

It’s snowing enough outside that it warps the amount of light that sneaks in from the street and dampens all the noise of the village. They’re laying on the floor together, Genma’s chest tacky with sweat under Iruka’s cheek and the throw blanket from the couch draped haphazardly over their legs. 

They could be the only two people in Fire Country and that would suit Iruka just fine.

Genma runs his fingers idly through Iruka’s hair and hums softly. “This is the first time we’ve fucked that you haven’t immediately treated me like I have the plague after.” 

Iruka groans, feeling guilty and embarrassed all at once. “Why did you let me get away with that, anyway?”

“I only feel like a person when I’m with you, you know? You’re the only one who looks at me and sees  _ me  _ and not just a tool to be wielded by the village. I wasn’t going to jeopardize that just because you get antsy after sex.” Genma tugs on a strand of Iruka’s hair gently, then presses his lips against the crown of Iruka’s head.

“I’m going to love you too much,” Iruka warns, chest tight. “You’re gonna get tired of me.”

When Genma snorts, it doesn’t feel mean like it could have. He says, “How long have I known you? The reason no one else could handle being loved by you is because shinobi don’t know what to do with sincerity or genuine emotions, not because there’s something wrong with the way you love people. 

“But I’m starving for it, Iruka. I want to give you whatever I can, everything, and I want to feel crushed under the way you feel about me. Sometimes the only way I can get myself to come home is by imagining how angry you’d be with me if I didn’t.”

The only way Iruka can think to react is by squeezing Genma as hard as he can bear. The air in Genma’s body whooshes out of him in a laboured gust, but before Iruka can ease up, Genma squeezes back. “Don’t let me go,” he whispers, breathless.

So Iruka hangs on.

**Author's Note:**

> This fills the square for "cuddle" on my bingo card.


End file.
